


Anything Could Happen

by dciphoenix



Category: Blade (Movie Series), Blade - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3315344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dciphoenix/pseuds/dciphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas and a teenage Abby Whistler has ran away from home. She seeks shelter in an abandoned Motel. Unknown to her, her Motel is home to something with a pair of fangs. Something with a pair of fangs that's hungry...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything Could Happen

**Author's Note:**

> A belated Blade festive fan-fiction – I hope you all like!

Anything Could Happen

The snow came up spilling over her boots as she trudged through the thick white stuff as it crunched into the shape of her footprints underfoot.

Seeing clouds of her frozen breath linger in the air mere millimetres in front of her face, Abigail Whistler slung her satchel on to her shoulder a little more after feeling it slip from where it hung off the edge of her shoulder. The strap caught on a lock of unruly curly hair and dared to fall off her shoulder and into the white glistening snow.

It capped the buildings, cars and anything else exposed to the elements.

A couple - a scruffy bearded man and his wrapped up seeming to be wife rushed to get into their car as the white clouds above loomed with pockets of snow that could quite possibly fall and add to the already dangerous, cold and annoying hills of the stuff.

But it could quite possibly pass and disrupt some other town...

The sets of footprints left by the fair female. Leaving a sweet smell in the air as she walked by, concerned by the weather conditions but not by my presence. She can't see me. Can't hear me. How human.

The motel's unused lights were covered too in the white stuff, too. She noticed as Abby neared her destination.

Pulling her gloves further up her wrists even though she will more than likely be taking them off the minute she got there. As well as her other out-door wear; warm jacket, scarf and matching hat framing her ash brunette curls of hair that escaped the wool tight over her head and cascaded over the front of her jacket.

She climbed the fire-escape – known only to her and the previous owners of said motel. Now long gone and replaced by only herself and a few dozen rats that ran in the lower bowels of the building.

Taking her time in reaching the top of the rusted and out of service fire escape/metal staircase, noting the icicles cling to the banister and freshly lain snow covering the ice topped stairs. Abby threw up the heavy window, hearing the wooden frame thud against its frame as it took all her will to open the damn thing and not believe it could've frozen in place. A smile or pride flickered into life upon her lips at the action.

After following her from her home, the sound of something slamming alerted my presence and that of his too..

After journeying from home, a row gone too far, too much emotions and an out of the blue act - leaving her home had her wading through the frozen ice crystals and the wind stinging her cheeks turning them a painful pink.

With her skin still bitter from the wind, Abby heaved herself into the room beyond the window. Seeing inside a bed, broken lamp and working torch on the bedside cabinet. A collection of pictures and posters were stuck hurriedly on the opposite wall to the bed to the right of the room which was sporting a change of warm clothes.

Toe-ing off her boots, she saw snow remained on the ridges of them. They would melt within the sheltered hideout she'd created for herself. But she curled her toes into the red carpet, not caring or worrying about the state of her boots.

Boys and girls her age had tree houses or train-stations to linger in with others or by themselves. But no, Abby Whistler had an abandoned motel room, still which were paintings and bedding from when the motel functioned.

Many moons ago, using foam, she'd managed to barricaded herself within the small but cosy comfort hole on her first trip here. Promising herself she'd make this her getaway when in need of time alone.

Even though the wallpaper was a sickly, old flower patten that ran around the room and a textbook ash-tray like light hung on the ceiling. Which wasn't working and neither did the lamp – it was another home to her.

Torches, candlelight and lighters sufficed in place of electric.

Being cut off was quite apt, really. Being cut of from one thing made her relax just a little bit more and feel alone more too.

Shredding her gloves and hat then putting them to one side, the snow on them already beginning to disappear. Pulling off her coat, hanging it on the back of the door and pulling out a small sketch pad came next.

A quick sketch of the hills and small woods that she'd passed was hastily drawn by torchlight and the poor lighting that came from the window.

Looking out of the window, seeing the snow cover the bottom ridge. Taking a mental note as to how much was upon the wood, if the possibility of being snowed in became inevitable. Abby pushed the bag and sketch pad to the floor and put on the woolly jumper over her clothes before getting into bed.

Deciding that she'd probably never coming back to this place during the winter time, the snow and freezing air making the adventure and stay less than cosy. Abigail sighed and looked over the wall of pictures and photos, taking them down and removing all her possessions from her little hideaway would be first on her list of things to do after relaxing in the bed, after getting back warmth back into her skin and taking a breather from the cold and the argument. And of course it had to have happened at this time of year!

Darkness carpeted the floor. The need to light the way was always the known thing for the bags of blood and bone to do in order to see. Rather than switching to another sense to guise the way.

Had she fallen asleep? Because it was even darker the next time she observed the now dry garments and wall of posters. She swung her legs out of bed, stretching as she made to stand. Quickly regretting her action of leaving the warmth and comfort of the bed. But feeling the need to go home came over her in the near to same time as she felt the cold fall over her skin. Abby quickly took her items from the walls and surfaces of the room, packing them in her bag a figure in the door way was caught in the corner of her eye.

"Go home, human." The dark, growl of a man called to her attention. He sounded angry. Though at who or what at was unclear.

Finding the shadow of him painted on the adjacent wall next to the door. Abby didn't realise the jump at his voice and backed towards the window, though an escape in nothing but socks wasn't a very clever idea.

"Go back home." He was crept closer to her then was in her face, bending down trying meet her eye and snarling.

"Who are you?" Abby found the strength to say, a gasp left her lips after her quiet question.

"He's here, he can smell you." The stranger suddenly pushed her to the side and pulled out a large, dark weapon. It's barrel nearly making up all of the gun.

He fired.

In that second the room exploded in light. The bullet fired from the gun pierced the window and hit something beyond.

In that second she saw all his features, dark skin, tattoos, long black coat, weapon in hand and darkened sun glasses oddly enough.

She had just enough time to turn and see ash and fire outside the window fill the once clear, cold air and cover the now glass and ice. It swept into the room in a strong gust of wind as the now ineffective window howled icy air into the room.

The dark ash was a strong contract to the pure white snow.

The dark skinned stranger then put his gun away and threw the rest of her belongings at her before ordering to redress herself as she stood in nothing but her indoor wear and in need of covering up before going outside again. She heard him mutter something about taking her home to be safe.

Finding herself follow his order, Abigail Whistler backed away from him as he was about to scoop her up to help her from the window and so she didn't have to stand on the shards of scattered glass.

"Who are you?" She tensed and asked the stranger.

His only reply was a small jerk of the head, a possible nod and a one word answer. "Help."

Her helper then picked her up and carried her in his arms as if she weighed nothing but a feather.

The journey home was quick.

He must've ran through the cold, deep snow. But there was no fast movement in their bodies and the swirled snow sky that created white curls in the darkening blue sky was still as she lay in his arms. Feeling warmth from his arms, feeling the smooth leather and the cold from winter's chill. Her stranger had put her down on her doorstep and as quick as he had pushed her to one side to apparently save her skin he had disappeared with nothing but a warning. "Don't go there again. Tell no-one of what happened."


End file.
